


A Kiss Can Mean A Thousand Things

by Llama1412



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28796874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: Fills for kissing prompts based on the50 Types of Kisses Writing Prompts
Relationships: Iorveth/Vernon Roche
Comments: 28
Kudos: 48





	1. A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

**Author's Note:**

> This first fill is set in the future of [(Im)Perfect Strangers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26116723). Prompt sent by rubberduckiemel on tumblr.<3

The first sign that they were perhaps getting too comfortable with each other actually went unnoticed by both Iorveth and Roche. It was Brigida who gasped sharply during the children’s Elder Lessons with Iorveth when, while Anais and Boussy were occupied trying to translate a picture book, Roche dropped an absentminded kiss on Iorveth’s lips before stepping out to talk to his men.

Iorveth had honestly forgotten that there was anything remarkable about Roche’s behavior. Ever since their vacation on the mountain, Roche was trying hard to actually express his affection when they were alone together. Kisses, light touches to his hair, his back, his shoulder - they had all become commonplace and expected with Roche, and Iorveth savoured each one of them.

But they’d both forgotten that while the kids knew and accepted them, Brigida pointedly did  _ not. _

Iorveth turned away from her shocked, accusing gaze, licking his lips absently. The warm press of Roche’s chapped lips had lasted a bare few seconds, but already, Iorveth was looking forward to Roche’s return and the hello kiss that would greet him.


	2. Brushing a kiss along the shell of the other person’s ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from rubberduckiemel <3

A grin pulled at Roche’s lips as he brushed a kiss along the shell of Iorveth’s pointed ear. “Good morning,” he whispered against sensitive skin.

Iorveth, face determinedly pressed into his pillow, grumbled at the tease and tried to bat Roche away without opening his eyes. 

Roche caught Iorveth’s wildly flailing hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing his lips gently to each fingertip. Iorveth’s fingers twitched against him and the elf grumbled again.

“I am  _ trying _ to sleep here,” came Iorveth’s muffled complaint. 

Laughing, Roche responded easily, “and I’m trying to wake you up. C’mon, sun’s up.”

“Fuck the sun.”

“I imagine that would be difficult and painful, but if you’re determined...” He let his smirk stretch across his face as Iorveth finally lifted his head from the pillow to give Roche a baleful glare.

_ “Sleep!”  _ Iorveth insisted.

“Wake up time,” Roche countered. “C’mon, I even made breakfast. All you gotta do is get out of bed.”

Iorveth groaned dramatically, collapsing back into his pillow. Roche could hear muffled swears and he chuckled, poking Iorveth in the side. 

“Up.”

“Fuck you.”

“I mean, I’m not opposed, but breakfast first, hmm?” Roche wiggled his eyebrows, even though he knew Iorveth couldn’t see him. 

“Ugh,” Iorveth huffed expansively. “You’re so lucky I hate killing on an empty stomach.”

“Uh huh. Now, would you like coffee or tea?”


	3. One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from rubberduckiemel and moonlights-ordinance. <3

Vernon Roche’s Mama was a very unique individual, and there were certain values that she’d ingrained into him so deeply, he didn’t know what he’d do if his duty to Temeria every forced him to go against them. 

At the moment, there was no duty, no specific task that taunted him. No, Roche was concerned with something much, much more fragile. Relationships. Specifically, the newly developing, still tentative friendship between Roche himself and his once enemy, the elf Iorveth.

He wasn’t entirely sure how they’d actually managed to come together like this. Two years ago, he would’ve bet money that they’d attempt to kill each other on sight. A year ago, he would have said that elves and the Scoia’tael no longer mattered, not when Temeria needed him.

Now? Now he was somehow working together with Iorveth to build a new Temeria, a Temeria within which all species were equal. And somewhere along the way, working with Iorveth had changed from a hassle he wanted to avoid to the highpoint of his day. Being around Iorveth made him… _better_ somehow, Roche just knew it. Iorveth made him want to bring his best to everything, made him want to be someone Iorveth might be proud to call friend. He wanted Iorveth to feel the same fluttery lightness at the sight of him that Roche always felt. He wanted to be the one to show Iorveth, to _prove_ to Iorveth that humans and elves could work together effectively.

It was possible that he…  _ might _ have a bit of a crush on Iorveth. Just a little one. Probably. Roche hadn’t realized that’s what it was until Iorveth had to leave Temeria to go confer with other elves in Dol Blathanna and other settlements, but it had been three weeks since he’d last seen Iorveth and he could admit that he was a bit… unmoored. Unrooted. Set adrift. 

Who knew that Iorveth’s very presence had come to be such a touchstone for him? 

It wasn’t a pleasant realization, not really. Not when Iorveth was  _ so _ out of his league. Not when the elf would probably be disgusted to be pursued by a human. Not when the prospect of  _ telling _ Iorveth meant that he might never hear that rough voice rumble out  _ Vernon _ ever again.

Roche licked his lips and let out a deep breath. Iorveth was supposed to return today and he hadn’t been able to get a lick of work done, not when anticipation coiled tightly in his belly and nerves fizzled and bubbled and made it entirely impossible to focus on anything except  _ Iorveth.  _ Roche jiggled his leg restlessly as he waited for the elf to arrive, tapping his fingers on the stack of paperwork that he was supposed to be making a dent in. Instead, he found himself staring into space, strangely frightened of what might be coming.

What if Iorveth had changed his mind about their friendship? What if he no longer wanted to work together? What if the elves had convinced him that he should move somewhere else?

“Hard at work, I see.”

Caught up in his concerns, it took Roche a moment too long to recognize the voice that had spoken, but as soon as he did, he whirled around, jumping to his feet. “Iorveth! You’re back!”

Iorveth smirked at him, the confident twinkle in his eye making Roche’s breath catch. His body twitched in an aborted open-arm pose and the part of Roche’s mind that wasn’t stuck tracing his eyes over that smirk told him to clench his hands by his side. Hopefully Iorveth hadn’t notice anything.

Only Iorveth was suddenly striding towards him, determination writ into every movement, and before Roche knew what was happening, the elf’s cool body pressed close as arms wrapped around his torso. His hands automatically circled around Iorveth, pulling him the slightest bit closer, and Roche swallowed, leaning into the pressure of Iorveth’s head against his.

“Never thought I’d miss  _ you,” _ Iorveth huffed lightly.

“Yeah,” Roche murmured, far too honest. Was this something their friendship could include now? Hugs? That would be… pretty nice, actually.

Iorveth squeezed him tightly before pulling back, but the elf didn’t go far. Hands dragged down Roche’s arms until slim fingers circled his wrists. “I–” Iorveth began, fingers trembling ever so slightly. 

Roche twisted his hands so that he could return the grip on Iorveth’s wrists, tight enough to reassure the elf that he wasn’t going anywhere.

The corner of Iorveth’s mouth ticked up and he continued, “I swore to myself I would, um.” Iorveth stopped, swallowing hard and biting his lip. Then he took a breath and met Roche’s eye as he leaned forward and brought their mouths together.

Roche gasped instinctively, and Iorveth licked across his bottom lip in a tease. His brain seemed to have shut down, taking far,  _ far _ too long to process that Iorveth was  _ kissing him  _ that by the time he had the wherewithal to respond, Iorveth already pulling back, cheeks flushed. 

The distance between their lips was unacceptable, so even though his mind was still spinning through the implications – Iorveth wanted this? With  _ him? _ – Roche had to chase after the elf, had to bring their mouths together once more.

Iorveth let him, opening to him beautifully and responding to him with the same eagerness and enthusiasm that Roche was letting guide his actions. At the soft sound Iorveth let out, Roche felt his head spinning and his body shaking and it only made sense to draw closer to Iorveth. He wasn’t sure when they’d released each other’s wrists, but his hands were now tangled in the back of Iorveth’s armor and Iorveth’s own were traveling down his sides and up his chest as though they couldn’t get enough.

Iorveth’s eye was closed and he was breathing in little gasps straight from Roche’s lungs, and fuck, Roche had never thought this might actually ever happen. He hadn’t dared to hope, hadn’t dared to dream – but they would have been nothing compared to the reality anyway, the reality of Iorveth’s long tongue twisting around his, enticing him to chase the elf back into Iorveth’s mouth until Iorveth could suck hard on his tongue, sending shivers through his body and down to his bones.

He tried to mumble Iorveth’s name between them without breaking their kiss and only succeeded in a few grunted consonants. Then one of Iorveth’s hands knocked off his chaperon and buried itself in his hair, tugging just the slightest bit.

That was not at all the reason Roche’s knees choose that moment to give out. He clung to Iorveth’s shoulders, feeling the elf’s amused chuckle through his chest. Iorveth wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him so close that his useless legs didn’t matter. It was only natural to wrap them around Iorveth’s hips, clinging even closer until there was nothing between them except armor.

Kissing Iorveth again and again and again, Roche became vaguely aware that they were moving. Next thing he knew, Iorveth was sitting on the couch that Roche had slept on far too often before the elf had joined him in ruling Temeria, and Roche himself was perched in Iorveth’s lap, knees stretched wide enough for their pelvises to press against each other.

The hand Iorveth had had on his waist slowly moved down – not far, just above the line of his trousers. Still, it was a reminder of just what was happening here, and Roche had to pull back, sucking in whole lungfuls of air as he panted, “wait, wait.”

Immediately, Iorveth froze and leaned back, a stiffness in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

Roche licked his lips, cupping Iorveth’s face. “I – are you  _ sure _ you want this?”  _ Are you sure you want  _ me _!?  _ he didn’t say.

The line of Iorveth’s shoulders relaxed, tension melting out of muscles as Iorveth tilted his head foreward to press their foreheads together. “Vernon,” he murmured in that same way that always sent butterflies aflutter in Roche’s belly. “Of course I’m sure.”

Then Iorveth stretched his neck and kissed Roche again, deeply, passionately, with so much emotion and care that Roche felt tears prickling in his eyes. He threw his arms around Iorveth’s neck, kissing him back with just as much fervor and want and love.

Who would have ever thought that the two of them could end up  _ here,  _ in each other’s arms and more than content about it?

Two years ago, they probably would have murdered each other. A year ago, Roche had been too caught up in the fight for Temeria to spare a thought for any elves. A day ago, he would have given anything to have Iorveth back again.

And now? Now Roche had never felt more exhilarated or infatuated or desired and he never planned on letting Iorveth go every again.

In a year from now, maybe kisses from Iorveth would be a regular part of his life. He hoped so.


	4. Kissing tears from the other’s face.

Roche’s heart was going a mile a minute and it hadn’t slowed all day. Not since Thirteen had somehow gotten a lucky shot in – which was remarkable in and of itself – and the Scoia’tael Commander had staggered to the ground with an arrow in his shoulder and a look of pure fury on his face.

It was about that moment that the ringing in Roche’s ears had started, along with the racing heart. Because somehow, in the span of a heartbeat, things had gone from a standard encounter with the Scoia’tael to completely uncharted territory. Because while Roche himself had been frozen, Ves was not. Which meant that she was able to keep any Scoia’tael from coming close to their commander’s body until the rest of the Stripes could draw near enough to cover him. There would be no rescue, no escape. Iorveth was now his prisoner.

That should have been a good thing, should have been Roche’s greatest triumph. Instead, his heart was racing and his ears were ringing and his brain just kept replaying the moment that Iorveth, surrounded by the Blue Stripes, had looked up at Roche and surrendered. 

Iorveth’s face was a mask of the anger and defiance he’d expect from the Scoia’tael Commander, but underneath that…

Roche didn’t know. He couldn’t read it, couldn’t tell whether Iorveth was hiding betrayal or scorn or determination for revenge.

The last time he hadn’t been able to read Iorveth had been a long time ago. He swallowed hard, trying not to think about how exactly he’d come to know Iorveth so well. Thinking about that right now, with Iorveth his prisoner and his men high on victory, would be a bad idea. 

Except his brain didn’t seem to want to listen to him and all he could think about as the Stripes marched their prisoner back to base was the last night they’d spent together. Iorveth had looked at him so very softly, bandana off and hair free of its braids. Roche remembered the way the dark brown hair, a half dozen shades darker than his own, had fallen in curls against Iorveth’s collar bone, and the way he’d idly thought about following one of those curls with his teeth, leaving clear and prominent marks in his wake.

Nothing but a fantasy, of course. They had to keep the secret, Roche had always known that. The secret was the only thing that let them have this, and without it, everything would fall to ruin.

Swallowing around the knot in his throat, Roche wondered what would happen now. Would Iorveth use the secret as a weapon against him? Would  _ he _ use it against Iorveth? Could he even do that?

Well, that was a stupid question. Of course he was capable of it. As he’d discovered in his many years in Foltest’s service, he was capable of a great number of things that he might once have questioned. Every man had his price, after all, and Roche’s price had always been Temeria. For Temeria, he would do anything.

He hadn’t thought about what he’d do when Temeria demanded his lover. Deliberately had always avoided thinking about it. But he couldn’t run anymore, couldn’t avoid the coming choice. 

Roche squeezed his hands into fists to hide the way they were shaking. What was he supposed to do? He’d always relied on Iorveth’s fox-like ability to avoid capture so that he would never have to  _ make _ this choice.

He should have known better, should have known that being as happy as he had been of recent just wasn’t  _ for _ someone like him. He should have expected the other shoe to drop.

There was something bitterly ironic in the fact that his reality crashing around him was caused by the one single solitary time in his life Thirteen had  _ ever _ been lucky. As if Roche needed the universe taunting him with his coming choice.

His men or his lover? His country or his enemy?

How could he choose? Either way, he would lose something precious, something irreplaceable. Something that would fracture his heart forever in two.

And he’d always thought the jests about him not having a heart were funny. Apparently the joke was on him this time.

The Temerian Army base loomed closer with every step Roche took and each step felt like a death knell. Each step brought him closer to the decision point, closer to losing everything. Once they reached the base, he was out of time.

* * *

Iorveth had done many reckless things in his long life. In fact, he had done so many that it was rather incredible his life had been as long as it was. Nonetheless, this one? This one had been the  _ worst _ thing he’d ever done.

It had happened in that split second between the arrow hitting him and his body hitting the ground. He had a choice to make. Did he ignore the pain and escape? 

There shouldn’t have been any other option. His people  _ needed _ him, he couldn’t afford to let himself get captured.

So why had he?

It was  _ stupid,  _ absolutely the most idiotic thing he had ever done. And truth be told, he didn’t know how he was going to get out of this. But he  _ would _ get out of it. His people needed him. And if Foltest got his hands on him? Iorveth would die. And it would probably take a long, long time.

So that wasn’t allowed to happen. He had to escape. He  _ had _ to.

If only he could think of how. Instead, he was stuck thinking about the way that Roche hadn’t looked at him since they started walking towards the army base. Since he had counted the number of arrows pointed at him and decided surrender would be his best option. He couldn’t escape if he was dead.

Why wouldn’t Roche look at him? What was Roche planning? What was going to happen to him once they reached the damned army base?

He could have escaped. He  _ should  _ have have escaped. But every time Iorveth thought about striking out at his guards, he glanced at Roche’s stiff shoulders and found that he just… couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

Gods, this was absolutely the stupidest risk he’d ever taken. And for what? Because the Commander of the forces who had captured him wouldn’t look at him? When had he turned into a lovesick teenager?

Not that anybody was using that word. Love. It wasn’t. Enemies couldn’t  _ truly _ come to love each other, after all, and Iorveth and Roche had always been enemies. Even as they slept together and ate together and bathed together, they were still enemies. They had had a truce during those more intimate moments, of course. Neither would kill the other while they were...  _ involved.  _

But they still brought their all to every fight. Their nights might be spent together, but their days were spent in opposition to each other. Iorveth fought for the very right to live, and Roche fought for King and Country. It was  _ obvious _ that Iorveth was the one in the right. If anyone with a brain would think about it for  _ five seconds,  _ they would realize that.

He’d never challenged Roche’s brain. He’d always hesitated, too fearful of what would happen next. What would happen when they both realized that this thing they had was destined to fall apart. What else could something built on stolen moments and bitten back words do?

Iorveth stared at the broad expanse of Roche’s back and desperately willed the dh’oine to look at him. He needed – he needed to  _ know _ what was going on in Roche’s head before he escaped. Which was stupid and selfish and absolutely not something he should be jeopardizing his life for.

But no matter how much his brain screamed at him to just escape already, Iorveth couldn’t bring his legs to move. 

Why wouldn’t Roche just  _ look _ at him!?

They approached the army base and Roche  _ still _ wouldn’t look at him and Iorveth knew that as soon as they crossed that threshold, his chances of escape were greatly diminished. And his chances for torture went up drastically. Was he  _ really _ risking everything because his captor and once-lover wouldn’t look at him?

Apparently, yes, he was. Because he needed to know what Roche would do. He needed to know if – if this entire thing had been an illusion. He needed to know if Roche’s face would be full of pride and victory when looking at Iorveth, or if it – if it might be something else instead.  _ What, _ he wasn’t even sure. 

His men were absolutely going to kill him for this. Because Iorveth’s gaze never wavered from Roche’s back and his feet had already crossed the point of no return.

Whatever happened next, he would  _ know. _

The Stripes marched him past gawking soldiers and threw him into a holding cell, and Roche  _ still _ wasn’t looking at him, even as the dh’oine ordered his men to leave. And then ordered the guard assigned to the holding cell to leave.

Iorveth swallowed hard. Was he about to get tortured? That would… really, really not be good.  _ Especially _ if Roche was the one doing it.

He took a deep breath, digging his fingernails into his palms to ground himself. If – If  _ that _ was about to happen, then Iorveth would endure. He was good at enduring. And he would  _ know,  _ know that he never truly meant anything to Roche and that this whole whatever-it-was between them was a lie. 

His anger at that would sustain him through much, he reassured himself and tried to swallow down fear and despair and that small glint of light that refused to give up hope until he knew for sure.

They were alone together now, just him in chains and behind bars and Roche, whose shoulders raised in a deep breath before the dh’oine began to turn.

Iorveth held his breath without a conscious decision, so, so ready to  _ know.  _

Roche kept his head down, staring at the wooden flooring rather than at his captive. He drew closer to Iorveth, close enough that if it weren’t for the bars, he might have thought this was any other evening. 

But the bars  _ were  _ there, and chains circled his wrists and his ankles, and Roche was close enough that he could grab the man’s tunic and jerk him into the bars. Roche grunted at the impact, but still, he refused to look up at Iorveth, refused to let Iorveth  _ know. _

“Look at me!” Iorveth snarled, and Roche’s breath hitched.

Then, slowly, the dh’oine began to raise his head. It took a small eternity, but finally,  _ finally,  _ their eyes met.

Roche burst into tears.

Iorveth blinked.

“I’m sorry,” Roche gasped, real actual tears rolling down his cheeks. 

Iorveth blinked again, wondering when the world would start making sense.

“I don’t know what to do. I – you’re supposed to be uncatchable, I didn’t – I didn’t  _ plan _ for this–” Roche shook his head, closing his eyes and letting his forehead thunk against the bars. 

Iorveth licked his lips, shuffling the slightest bit forward until he was pressed against the bars – and against Roche. Roche, who was  _ crying,  _ because  _ neither  _ of them had planned for this and  _ what were they going to do!? _

He tilted his head until his lips brushed against wet cheeks and kissed Roche’s tears away. 

Roche gasped, startled, and his eyes fluttered open. “Iorveth?”

Iorveth clenched his hand in Roche’s tunic and grasped for words. How could he explain that he’d never expected hope to win? Because he still didn’t know how he was going to get out of this, but Roche – Roche was  _ crying,  _ crying because Iorveth had been captured and he didn’t know how to fix it.

Roche  _ wanted _ to fix it. Vernon Roche, Commander of the Blue Stripes,  _ wanted  _ Iorveth to be free.

Something bright flared to life in his chest, spreading tingling warmth through his blood. Maybe enemies couldn’t ever truly love each other, but Iorveth rather thought that this is what it might look like if they could.

“Roche,” he started, and then shook his head. When they were alone, he’d always used – “Vernon.”

Vernon inhaled sharply, clearly understanding what it meant, for Iorveth to call him that, even with the bars between them. “Why–” Vernon cleared his throat, “why aren’t you angry?”

“I don’t know,” Iorveth answered honestly. “I have no fucking idea what I’m doing.” Then he tugged on Vernon’s tunic again and brought their lips together between the bars. 

* * *

Roche had no idea what was happening. One moment he’d been bracing himself for a hit as Iorveth dragged him into the bars. The next, their eyes were meeting and Roche couldn’t hold it in anymore. Amidst tears and stammered confessions of his helplessness, he slowly processed the fact that Iorveth’s mask was down and instead of anger and defiance, there was something else. Something he didn’t dare hope to believe in.

Even if Iorveth lov–

Even if Iorveth didn’t hate him right now, he still didn’t know how to get Iorveth  _ out. _

Because Roche knew exactly what his men thought was happening in here. And he knew it  _ should _ be happening. But he just – he couldn’t do it.

He’d never not been able to do something for Temeria before.

And then Iorveth was murmuring his name, his  _ first name,  _ the one Iorveth called him during all of their private time together, and what did that  _ mean? _

“Why aren’t you angry?” he asked, sniffling.

“I don’t know. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing.” 

Iorveth’s voice was so full of an odd sort of wonder that Roche had to look up, had to meet Iorveth’s eyes, and there was almost a ghost of a smile on Iorveth’s face as Roche found himself tugged forward into a kiss.

His mouth dropped open in surprise and Iorveth licked into his mouth, short teasing swipes that forced him to respond. It was the easiest thing in the world to close his eyes and let Iorveth have his way.

Did this mean Iorveth forgave him for capturing the elf? 

“Of course I forgive you,” Iorveth whispered, pulling back and looking at him through soft eyes. “I would like some assistance getting  _ out _ of here, though.”

Roche swallowed, pulling Iorveth forward until he could rest his forehead against the elf’s. “I can give you the key, but even if you knock me out, you’ll need a distraction. But if I go do that, then you’ll have guards to deal with.”

Iorveth’s fingers slid up to cup the back of his neck. “I can take care of a few guards. Without killing them, even.”

“Your shoulder–”

Where a broken arrow still stuck out. Iorveth grimaced. “It’s not that bad, actually. Didn’t get very deep.”

“You’re definitely lying.” He closed his eyes, leaning in to kiss Iorveth one more time. “Just – make sure your people take care of it.”

“I will,” Iorveth promised. “And – Vernon,” Iorveth grabbed his tunic again, tugging lightly. “Thank you.”

Roche nodded slightly, and started rubbing at his face. His credibility would be ruined if he walked out of here looking like his dog had died. 

Once he was ready, he rolled his shoulders and worked on aggravating himself into a worked up state. Then, he stomped out of the holding cell and stopped in front of his people. The guard assigned by the base returned to their post, right in front of Iorveth’s cell, but Roche could at least keep his people out of it. 

“I’m writing the King,” he said gruffly. “I’ll need your reports by dinner time.”

“Yes, sir,” Ves saluted him sharply – in contrast to the other members of his squad, whose saluts were extremely lackluster – and turned to corral the Stripes into functional members of society.

With a nod, he headed towards the base’s dry goods storage. All he had to do was cause a distraction big enough to send everyone on base running to attend to it and Iorveth would be free.

Good thing flour was highly flammable.

Despite himself, Roche grinned as he lit a match and set it to the makeshift fuse. Who would have ever thought he’d be here, destroying Temerian Army supplies so that his most wanted enemy could escape?


	5. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

Roche stopped so abruptly that Iorveth ran into him, blinking and confused at the sudden stillness. “Uh–?”

Roche, one stair above him, turned and grinned smugly. “Finally taller than you.”

Iorveth cocked his eyebrow, assessing the miniscule height above him Roche currently stood at. “Are you?”

“Definitely. But you know what’s even better?”

Iorveth’s smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as he humored the dh’oine. “What?”

Roche smiled broadly and sent him a wink. “I’m tall enough like this  _ not _ to have to go on my toes.”

Iorveth blinked. “Tall enough for–?”

Roche laughed, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Iorveth’s nose. “Tall enough for you, dumbass.”

Oh.  _ Oh. _ Well in that case…

Iorveth tilted his chin up, challenging Roche with his gaze. “And what do you plan to do, now that you’re tall enough?”

Roche bit back a grin and wrapped his arms around Iorveth’s shoulders. “Guess.”

“Hmm,” Iorveth hummed thoughtfully even as he tugged Roche closer to the edge of the stair. “Grab those plates you can never reach?”

Snorting, Roche shook his head. “I was thinking much more traditional. No additional items needed.”

“Oh?” Iorveth teased.

“Just you,” Roche murmured, leaning forward until Iorveth could feel the heat radiating from his body, even without direct contact, “and me.” 

Finally, Roche brought their lips together and kissed Iorveth softly. 


	6. A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.

The fact that humans were considered to be the horniest species was utterly  _ hilarious  _ to Roche as a human who actually dealt with a nonhuman sex drive – and the nonhuman attached to it. 

He knew it was a compliment, really. Iorveth wanted him so desperately and so often  _ because _ the elf felt comfortable and safe around him and that was a great honor.

But  _ damn,  _ elves had a  _ lot  _ more stamina than humans did. And frankly, Roche was just about tapped out to exhaustion.

Not that that had to mean an end to things. On the contrary, sinking into the soft embrace of sleep while surrounded and protected by Iorveth was one of his favorite things. But at the same time, it was so very difficult not to regret that he couldn’t be awake at all times to watch this beautiful creature search for pleasure with  _ him.  _

Iorveth kissed softly across his face before capturing his lips, fucking into his mouth with an intent that left Roche breathless. 

“Iorveth,” he moaned, nothing more than a gasp of air.

Iorveth shivered above him, stroking gentle fingers across his face as though still, after all this time, Iorveth could barely believe that this was real.

Roche could relate, so he pulled Iorveth down into another kiss, brushing his thumb deliberately across Iorveth’s left ear.

This time Iorveth moaned, squirming in his seat above Roche’s hips. “Vernon,” Iorveth whispered, his voice full of promise.

So of course that was the moment someone rapped on their door, announcing themselves in the loud voice that usually meant they’d been overheard.

Oops?

**Author's Note:**

> Send me a [prompt!](https://bard-llama.tumblr.com/post/640497335177216000/50-types-of-kisses-writing-prompts)


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